


Learning to Fall

by NeQuittezPas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Swing Dancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeQuittezPas/pseuds/NeQuittezPas
Summary: Eddie was risk-averse. She never gambled or jay walked or messed about with ouija boards. Her tenure in SHIELD was an exception, and even that was almost cut short due to her unwillingness to fall. When Natasha Romanov asks her to dance with a certain World War II-era soldier, Eddie may finally learn.





	1. Ain't That A Kick In The Head

Eddie suppressed a sigh. The old man was holding her much closer than was socially acceptable, but the song was almost over, and Eddie didn't feel like making a scene by quitting in the middle of a song. The guy looked older than her grandfather, and it was quite apparent that the only action he got anymore was in this dance hall, pressing too close to women who were too polite to decline a dance.

The song ended and Eddie faked a smile as she memorized his face and added him to The List in her mind. The List was comprised of the dozen or so men Eddie saw here often who danced too close, made creepy remarks, or otherwise made their dance partners uncomfortable. Eddie was in the habit of discreetly pointing these men out to other women while they cooled off in front of the large rotating fans on the edge of the dance floor.

"One more song?" The old man asked, all friendly and innocent, and Eddie shook her head, already withdrawing her hand and stepping away, making an excuse about the heat and needing a drink of water. The old man shrugged and wandered off along the edge of the dance floor to find another victim. Eddie pitied the next poor girl who said yes.

She wandered her way back to where she'd left her purse and sweater on a bench, sipping slowly at her water bottle and tapping her foot to the music. She'd lucked out, too. The song the band was playing down was slow. Eddie hated slow songs even when she had a good partner, but slow songs with bad dancers were just torture.

"You've got the right idea," Lena sighed, flopping heavily down onto the bench next to Eddie and screwing the top off her water bottle with one hand while holding her hair up off her neck with the other. Her forehead and neck were slick with sweat, which is what happened when you danced for hours in a dance hall with no air conditioning in late June just outside Washington, D.C.

"Was just getting away from a Close Dancer, actually." Eddie checked the time on her phone and her lips twisted. The band was set to go on break soon. She was hoping they'd play a fast song before they stopped, and in case they did she started scanning the dance floor for dancers she knew well, trying to pick out who she'd ask.

"What? Who?" Lena craned to look at the dance floor, pressing her cool water bottle to her neck in an attempt to kep cool.

"Old guy, yellow shirt, suspenders." Eddie didn't bother with a name or a face. Lena hadn't remembered Eddie's name until they'd met at least three times. It was best to just point out the clothes of whoever Lena needed to steer away from whenever they went out together.

Lena's eyes scanned the floor for a moment before she locked on, and grimaced. "Ugh. It's not fair, the guys who wear suspenders are usually good."

Eddie nodded sagely. "Probably trying to lull us into a false sense of security." Lena made a noise of disappointment and disgust.

The band took a break as the slow song finished, and Eddie sighed, checking the time again. It was already getting late. It would probably be close to half an hour before the band came back, and another fifteen minutes of people showing off aerials and doing the shim sham before social dancing started back up again. If she left now, she could make it home before midnight.

Nodding to herself, Eddie stood and started gathering her things. "I'm gonna head out."

"Already? Booo," Lena booed at her, a little louder than was typical for normal conversation. A few other dancers on break shot her startled looks, and Eddie huffed a laugh. "Why?"

"No band for another 30 minutes? It's hot, and late? I'm done being lightly groped by old men?" Eddie proposed as she swapped her dancing shoes for comfortable flats and tucked the heels away in her bag. Lena rolled her eyes, used to Eddie's introversion by now and knowing she'd never win if she tried to convince Eddie to stay.

"Whatever. At least I have Cooper this time." Cooper being their mutual friend who'd been mooning after Lena since college, and who Lena had only recently agreed to date. He was also, Eddie noticed, nowhere in sight.

"Do you?" Eddie teased, looking around for the absent boyfriend.

"He's toweling off in the bathroom." That made sense. Lena took great pleasure in getting dolled up in vintage dresses to go out dancing, and liked her man to match. Unfortunately, that meant that while Lena got to enjoy short sleeves and a breezy skirt, Cooper was dancing in long sleeves and a tie. In the humid mid-summer heat. In a dance hall with no air conditioning. Eddie did not envy him a bit.

"See? Too hot for dancing." Eddie hitched her purse over her shoulder. "Shoot me a text next time you're coming up? I might catch a ride with you next time."

"You should! Then you won't be able to quit early!"

Eddie huffed a laugh. "On second thought, maybe I will drive."

Lena booed loudly at her back, and Eddie smiled at the puzzled looks she got from other dancers as she walked away. Eddie had known Lena since college, and while the other woman hadn't matured much, she was still fun in small doses, and was a nice buddy to go out swing dancing with.

Only a few people hung around outside the hall, smoking cigarettes, and Eddie didn't see any other dancers making their way to the parking lot just yet. Most people would stick around to watch the aerials, Eddie figured, but she much preferred  _doing_  them to watching them, so she wasn't disappointed she'd be missing the show. She walked away from the hall and through the park, passing the darkened carousel and bumper car ring and inhaling the scent of honeysuckles on the summer breeze.

It was a nice night, even if it  _had_ been cut short by a Close Dancer.

She heard her assailant only a second before they struck. The slightest shuffle of a shoe and cloth was the only warning Eddie received before she was thrown forward forcefully.

What Eddie should have done—what she was trained to do—was drop into a roll to minimize the impact and roll back onto her feet in a ready position so she could face her assailant.

What Eddie  _actually_ did was bend her knees and shuffle her feet, like she'd been on the receiving end of a bad turn-out rather than a blow to the back. She spun, still feeling like she was dancing as she jammed her hand into her purse to grip her pepper spray. She froze as she caught sight of her attacker, letting go of the pepper spray with a sigh.

"Still trying to keep your feet, I see." Natasha Romanov looked less intimidating now that she was wearing well-fitting jeans and a t-shirt rather than the skin-tight tactical garb SHIELD provided her with. Not that Eddie thought the woman was any less capable of kicking her ass.

Eddie glanced around to see if the smokers from before were still in view, but they were alone. "You realize, now that I'm in the private sector attacking me without warning is just assault and battery."

Romanov's lips quirked up at the corner. "You gonna report me?"

Eddie ruffled her hand through her hair, exasperated. "I'd rather you just stopped."

Natasha hummed, like she'd take Eddie's request under consideration. She glanced over her shoulder at the dance hall, then back to Eddie. "There a reason you didn't break that guy's hand back there?"

Eddie blinked. It took her a moment to realize Natasha must have been talking about Mr. Close Dancer. "He's, like,  _70_."

"Exactly." Romanov's smile was small, but Eddie knew from experience that it was not innocent. "More than old enough to know better."

Eddie snorted softly, lips quirking a little at the image of breaking the old man's hand. "I think I'd see a significant decrease in invitations to dance if I started breaking bones."

Romanov shrugged, as if to say, 'suit yourself.' Silence stretched for a beat.

Eddie took the opportunity to really look at Romanov. She seemed… better. There was a tightness in the corner of her eyes when she was part of SHIELD, a tension borne from secrets on secrets. Not that the woman didn't still have them, of course. But with the exposure of HYDRA and fall of SHIELD, many things had come to light. The last few years couldn't have been easy on Romanov, but she seemed to have come out of the ordeal stronger. Less like the jagged, raw edge that had made her dangerous before. Now she was steel, hard and sharp. Stronger. More stable. More deadly.

"So…" Eddie said when Romanov didn't break the silence. "Did you come here to chastise me for my bad habits, or can I help you with something specific?"

"Can't it be both?" Romanov asked, not missing a beat. At Eddie's unamused look, Romanov smiled a charming smile. "Let me buy you a drink."

That did not bode well. Natasha Romanov offering to buy her a drink probably meant she was about to ask a very dangerous favor.

With a sigh, Eddie nodded. Romanov followed her to her car, and Eddie drove them to a small Irish pub a few minutes away from the dance hall. They managed to snag a small, out-of-the way table. Romanov left for the bar and returned with two beers and a shot of whiskey. Romanov pushed the beer and the shot toward Eddie, who raised her eyebrows but downed the shot, trusting Romanov to know what sort of favor she was asking and how much alcohol was required for Eddie to say yes.

And Eddie would say yes, really. She had never been close to Romanov, necessarily, but Eddie had been, and still was, loyal to SHIELD. She trusted Romanov, and she knew her work was important, so if Romanov needed something from her, she would do it. She might complain and bitch about it, but she would do it.

Eddie chugged a few decent gulps her her beer before setting it down and meeting Romanov's eyes. "What do you need?"

"You can relax," Romanov said dryly. "It's not a matter of national security."

Eddie stared. "You know that only makes me more suspicious, right?" What sort of non-national security related favor could Romanov possibly want from her?

Romanov's lips twitched. She took a dainty sip of her own beer. "I'm looking for a dance partner for a certain World War II-era soldier."

Eddie choked on her beer. From the amused light in Romanov's eyes, Eddie guessed the woman had waited until she took a sip on purpose. Still, she was too surprised to be angry. "You want me to dance with Captain America?"

"Not Rogers," Natasha said easily. She didn't continue, sitting back in her chair and watching Eddie, waiting for her to piece it together.

It took Eddie longer than it should have to connect the dots, but only because she couldn't believe it. The only World War II-era soldier Eddie knew was Captain America. Right? Everyone else from that time was dead or ancient, and Eddie highly doubted Romanov was here to ask her to jitterbug with a nursing home resident. There was no one else—except…

"You want me to dance with the  _Winter Soldier_?" Eddie hazarded, voice practically a whisper.

"No." Romanov leaned back in her chair and sipped her beer again, seemingly completely relaxed. The tension in Eddie's shoulders started to relax, though she really didn't know who else— "I want you to dance with Bucky Barnes."

And the tension was back. "That's the same—" Eddie bit her words back at Romanov's arched eyebrow. Eddie heaved a shuddering sigh. "Okay, fine. You're right, that's uncharitable. But you  _must_  know how insane that sounds."

"You were all set to help before I even told you what I wanted," Romanov observed, face neutral and relaxed. Eddie couldn't read the tone of her voice. "So why not this?"

Because Eddie had seen the footage. She could handle being in the same room as someone as deadly as Natasha Romanov, or as strong as Steve Rogers. But that strength and skill, in one person? A thoroughly brainwashed person who'd killed dozens of people, over the course of decades?

"Before you told me what you wanted, I guessed that you might want me to help track down HYDRA associates through financial transactions, or something. You know, the thing I'm good at?" That was what SHIELD had paid her for, after all.

"You don't think you're a good dancer?" Romanov asked, faux sympathetic.

"Not the point," Eddie bit out, losing patience.

Romanov backed off her teasing, turning more serious. "Barnes is improving. Wakandan tech has made progress in undoing what HYDRA did to him. But he's still trying to figure out who he is. Who he was." Turning wide, appealing eyes on Eddie, she added, "Rogers thinks this will help."

The manipulation was transparent. Romanov, with her pretty eyes, playing on Eddie's sense of duty and patriotic loyalty to Captain America. Still, just because she knew it was happening didn't make it any less powerful.

Eddie still tried to wriggle out of it, even though she knew in her heart the Widow had her where she wanted her. "You can dance, can't you?"

Romanov's lips curved in a smile, already triumphant. "Not like that."

"I could teach you," Eddie said brightly. "It's not too hard to learn, especially for the follow—"

"Edwards." Romanov arched an eyebrow, and Eddie could almost hear the implied  _Be serious_. Eddie stopped, shoulders slumping. "It needs to be you."

Eddie's lips twisted, and she gulped some beer. Then, with a considering look, the rest of pint. When it was gone, she looked at the glass mournfully for a moment before turning her eyes back to Romanov. "He's not going to glitch and try to strangle me, is he?"

"No strangling," Romanov promised easily, then smirked. "And no groping, either."


	2. In The Mood

Eddie took a train to New York the following Saturday morning. A car met her at the station, and she rode for a good hour before arriving at the sprawling, modern-looking Avengers facility. Romanov met her at the gate.

"Steve wants to meet you first before we spring you on Barnes," Romanov said as they made their way toward the building.

Eddie paused on the path.  _Spring_  her on him?

"What? He doesn't know I'm coming?" Romanov shook her head. Eddie grimaced and rolled her shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the tension now making her back tight.

"Oh, good. Great idea. I love surprising assassins." Romanov just rolled her eyes at Eddie's nervous babbling. "Just remember you promised me no strangling."

"I remember, Edwards."

Romanov took her into the building, winding though brightly lit hallways to a large room with glossy wooden floors. Large mirrors lined one wall, and the opposite wall was almost entirely windows looking out onto the grounds. It was actually a pretty nice dancing space, and Eddie couldn't help but wonder whether it had been designed for that, or for something else.

Captain America was already there, dressed in casual slacks and a t-shirt, arms crossed and looking nervous. This did not reassure Eddie in the slightest, even though he straightened to attention and tried to mask his tension when she and Romanov entered.

"Agent Edwards?"

Eddie huffed a laugh. Captain America's eyebrows drew together. "I'm not an agent of anything, anymore, Captain—" With difficulty, she swallowed the automatic 'America' that came to her lips and forced out instead, "Rogers. Eddie is fine."

She offered her hand, and he shook it, looking puzzled. Eddie marveled, silently, at how much bigger his hand was. "Steve. Sorry, but… Eddie Edwards?" His voice raised at the end, part skepticism, part pity.

"Eddie's short for Edwards," Eddie explained, good-humored. "My parents weren't that cruel." Steve's mouth parted, but he hesitated before asking the question written on his face.

"Her first name's Rose," Romanov said, taking pity on him.

"And it's reserved for family," Eddie added quickly. "So unless you'd like to marry my little sister I'll thank you to stick to Eddie or Edwards."

Steve's eyebrows rose, but he shrugged in acceptance. "Eddie it is." He paused, looking tense again and more than a little awkward. "Thank you for agreeing to come."

"You're quite welcome," Eddie said easily. She usually found the best way to address awkwardness like this was to pretend it didn't exist until it dissipated naturally. And if the awkwardness contained a good deal of fear and unease… well, all the more reason to ignore it. "Do I pass muster, or is there some sort of test before I get to meet my dance partner?"

"No test," Steve said immediately, though he shot an uncertain look to Natasha. She raised an eyebrow at him, and they seemed to carry on a silent conversation with each other. Rude.

Since she was apparently going to be ignored, Eddie strolled further into the room, glancing around for any hint of speakers or input panels. "You got a place for me to set up some music?"

"I will handle the music, Ms. Edwards." The voice was female, a pleasant Irish lilt that Eddie would have appreciated had it not seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Eddie whipped around immediately, eyes scanning the room. Romanov and Steve looked unsurprised and unconcerned, which reassured her.

"It's just Stark's AI. FRIDAY," Romanov explained. Eddie hummed and nodded, now spotting the mostly-hidden speakers littered throughout the room.

"Ms.—" Steve started, but paused to correct himself. "Eddie. Are you sure you're up for this?"

Eddie narrowed her eyes at him. He was all nervous energy, but mostly he just looked skeptical. "Are you questioning my abilities, or my fortitude?"

Steve frowned, looking a little offended by the accusation. Or maybe just the phrasing of the accusation. "I just want to be sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

Eddie tilted her head, puzzled at the tone of his voice. She somehow doubted, from his tone, that he was concerned about her safety. As nervous as she undeniably was, she didn't think she'd be allowed to do this if there was a real possibility she'd be maimed or killed. And if anything went wrong… well, Romanov almost certainly knew about the knife strapped to Eddie's thigh and the sedative-laced pins holding Eddie's fringe away from her forehead.

He wasn't worried about  _her_ , then. He was worried about Barnes.

A part of Eddie found that absurd. Like she, slip of a woman that she was, could have any hope of harming the  _Winter Soldier_. But she did her best to quash that voice, because the Winter Soldier didn't exist anymore. The Soldier was nothing more than a brainwashed HYDRA weapon, and she wasn't dancing with him. She was dancing with James "Bucky" Barnes, who had dealt with more shit in his very long life than Eddie could even hope to imagine, and who didn't need her judgment or wary looks in an activity that was ostensibly meant to cheer him and connect him to his past.

And Steve was right to ask. Eddie was nervous. Her heart was fluttering. Her knees were trembling, though luckily the movement was hidden by the hem of her skirt. Because no matter how often she told herself that the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were different, separate people, Barnes was still dangerous. He still had the strength, the skills. The hands that he held her with would be the same hands that had killed dozens of people.

There was a very large part of her that wanted to go back. The irrational, anxious little voice that told her to keep away from steep ledges, and that had her checking underneath her car and in the backseat to make sure someone wasn't lying in wait to attack her, was now telling her that this was a very, very bad idea.

But Steve's blue eyes were wide and cautiously hopeful, and Romanov's gaze was steady, like she  _knew_ Eddie could make the right decision. The spy's unshakable confidence that Eddie wouldn't let her down was what had her fisting her hands at her side and nodding.

"I know what I'm getting into."

Eddie must have sounded more confident than she felt, because Steve nodded in acceptance and some of the tension drained away from his shoulders.

"Alright, Steve. Time for you to hold up your end of the deal." Romanov eyed Steve with a small, vaguely mischievous smile. Eddie associated that facial expression most strongly with being attacked from behind, and was deeply thankful that Romanov was directing at someone else.

Steve, for his part, looked sour, but Romanov raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and he sighed. He walked over to Eddie with the somber resignation of a man about to die by firing squad.

"Your end of the deal?" Eddie questioned with a raised eyebrow. Man, he was tall. Eddie was glad she was wearing heels; if she'd worn flats she'd be feeling positively dwarfed by him.

"Natasha's condition for reaching out to you." Steve sighed and held up a hand. "One dance?"

Steve so clearly didn't want to dance that Eddie very nearly said no. She would have, had she not made the mistake of glancing at Romanov, who was watching intently and who nodded at her slowly. And while she really, really didn't want to step into whatever weird exchange was going on between her and Steve, Eddie wasn't about to pick a fight with Romanov, either.

So, to Steve's chagrin, Eddie to his hand. "Music, please, FRIDAY."

The music started, an easy medium tempo. Eddie placed her right hand in Steve's and her left on his upper arm, near the shoulder. Steve's grip on her hand was loose, and he reached out his right hand toward her waist slowly, hesitantly, like she was made of blown glass. Eddie gave him a reassuring smile and Steve's face grew more determined. He started to move.

It was like holding onto someone trying to get dressed in the dark.

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" Eddie asked after suffering through only about twenty seconds of the song. Steve looked up, embarrassed, from where he'd been staring at his stumbling feet.

"No clue." What Steve  _probably_ wanted was for Eddie to let him off the hook, but Eddie could almost feel Romanov's gaze on her back, so she didn't.

"Okay, stop." Steve dropped his hands, looking relieved to not be touching her anymore. Used to this behavior from shy new dancers, Eddie did her best not to take the expression personally. She took his right hand in her left and set his left hand on her shoulder. Steve let her, though he frowned in puzzlement, and his eyebrows shot up as she put her right hand on his lower back.

"Alright." Eddie tapped her toe to the music, finding the rhythm. "Do what you were doing before, but the opposite. So right, left, and back on the right foot. Got it?"

Steve looked lost. "Those are the girl's steps, aren't they?"

"They're the follower's steps," Eddie corrected patiently. "I'll lead."

Steve's hand twitched in hers, though he didn't pull away. "I don't think—"

Eddie ignored him, beginning the dance. Eddie's grip on Steve was firm but gentle, and she used her movements to coax him into following her. He stumbled a bit, but followed almost automatically, looking confused and a bit embarrassed.

"The mark of a good lead," Eddie explained, smiling a bit as she noticed Romanov holding up a phone in their direction, probably taking video, "is that the follower doesn't really need to know the moves. Just do the basic step and I can guide you through the rest."

To demonstrate this, Eddie raised her left hand as high as it could go while simultaneously pushing lightly on Steve's lower back. He turned without trouble, and when Eddie could see his face again he seemed to have relaxed some, though he still wasn't pleased with the situation.

"This isn't so bad," Steve said after a few more turns. She kept to the basic step and some simple turns, guessing he'd trip over himself if she tried to move them into the Charleston. She wasn't keen to be crushed under someone who had to be nearly twice her weight in sheer muscle.

"Leading is the hard part," Eddie agreed. "You've got to think ahead, know the moves, and keep to the rhythm. And, on an actual dancefloor, make sure you and your partner don't bump into other dancers."

Steve's lips tugged down uncertainly. "Don't know if I could manage that."

"So you can fight a war and direct troops, but you don't think you can manage one woman on a dancefloor?" Eddie asked skeptically. At Steve's self-deprecating look, Eddie assured him, "It just takes practice."

"Doubt I'll get the opportunity."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him as she turned him out. "What's this, then?"

"You're not here for me," Steve pointed out. He looked thoughtful, though, so Eddie waited for him to continue while she whipped them about in a circle. "Bucky used to try to set us up on double dates. He'd always end up dancing with both girls."

Eddie could picture that. "Oh? Maybe I'm unnecessary, then," Eddie teased. "Barnes can lead  _you_ around the dance floor instead."

Steve snorted softly and shook his head. "I just want him to feel normal again." He fixed Eddie with a serious, appealing look. She didn't know why. She was here already, wasn't she?

The song was ending. Eddie turned Steve out and then pulled him close, as close as they'd come the entire time they were dancing. The music built into a crescendo, and Eddie stopped, looking up at Steve, half-teasing, half-apologetic. "This is usually the part where I dip the lady, but you're a little heavy for that."

"Not a lady, either," Steve grumbled as the song ended. Eddie stepped away.

"Only took you 70 years," drawled a voice from the doorway. Steve's ears went pink as he turned around.

It was a little bizarre to see James Buchanan Barnes in person. Eddie had seen photos of him from the 40s, all slick hair, charming smile, tidy uniform. And after the fall of SHIELD, Eddie had seen a few images of him as the Winter Soldier, with his long hair, cold eyes, and gleaming metal arm.

The man leaning in the doorway wasn't quite one or the other. His hair was longer than he'd kept it before, but shorter and neater than the Winter Soldier's. He managed a teasing smile for Steve, but while the cold emptiness of the Winter Soldier was no longer present, no longer was his gaze as warm and friendly as it had been in the old black and white photos. His left arm was no longer gleaming silver metal, either. It was a narrow thing, off-white plastic covering a metal frame, with colored wires visible at the joints.

"Bucky." Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, then straightened his shoulders. "This is—" Steve paused, clearly struggling against the instincts that told him to use a more formal title, "Eddie."

Bucky's eyes drifted from Steve to Eddie slowly, and he nodded to acknowledge her silently. Eddie nodded back with a cheerful wave, which seemed to throw him off a bit. He looked back at Steve questioningly.

"You taking lessons, now?"

Steve hesitated. "Not exactly."

Bucky's brow furrowed. Eddie stepped away from Steve and crossed back to where Romanov stood against one wall, sensing that a conversation she didn't want to be involved in was about to take place.

Steve took Bucky out into the hall and shut the door. Eddie could hear muffled conversation, but couldn't make out their words.

Romanov watched her watch the door. "You're not even blushing." Eddie blinked, not following Romanov's train of thought. "You just had your hands all over Captain America," Romanov elaborated, emphasizing the last two words with humor. "A lesser woman might have fainted."

Eddie shrugged, glancing at the door. The muffled voices were a little louder, so Eddie was fairly certain Steve wouldn't hear when she confided, "He's kind of in the uncanny valley of attractiveness, you know?" At Romanov's raised eyebrow, Eddie elaborated, "Like, he's too handsome and well-built to be natural." She glanced at the door again as the voices outside the door went quiet. "It's kind of unnerving."

Romanov just shook her head, lips tugging up at the corner as the door re-opened. Steve looked a little sheepish, but triumphant. Barnes was scowling, and he shot a dark look at Romanov. Steve crossed to stand next to Romanov by the wall, and Bucky halted in front of Eddie.

"Would you like to dance?" He said it grudgingly, like a child being forced to deliver an apology he didn't mean. Eddie was actually a little grateful for the attitude, because it was hard to be intimidated by the man when he was practically pouting.

"I would love to." Eddie offered her right hand to him, and Barnes stared at it for a moment. He glanced from her hand to her face and back again before haltingly taking her hand in his left, the artificial arm whirring quietly. "FRIDAY, some music, please?"

Another 40's-era song played through the speakers, and Bucky led her stiffly into the middle of the room. Barnes's mouth was tight, his gaze fixed somewhere over Eddie's shoulder as he started to lead. His grip with his false arm was almost nonexistent, but Eddie thought that was intentional rather than a limit of the technology, judging by the way his flesh-and-blood fingers barely touched her lower back.

He lifted his left arm, but without an answering push from his other arm Eddie wasn't sure whether he wanted her to turn, and she just shuffled awkwardly in the basic step. Barnes's hand dropped back down, and he stopped moving entirely, jaw tight.

"Sorry." He finally looked at Eddie. His face was neutral, but his eyes looked positively wounded in a way that made Eddie's heart ache. "This is a bad idea."

"You're doing fine," Eddie lied. "Just be a little more purposeful. I'm not gonna break."

Barnes's lips tugged downward, eyes shadowed. "You might."

Normally a comment like that would scare her, but Eddie had the distinct feeling that he was  _trying_  to scare her away, so she wasn't threatened—just exasperated.

Eddie narrowed her eyes at him. "Look, Barnes." She refused to use his nickname, which somehow felt far more intimate than being in his arms. "If you don't want to dance, then you can march out of here and tell Steve and Romanov you don't want to do this. No one's going to force you. But you're still here, and you're still holding my hand, so I think you  _do_  want to dance."

Barnes stared at her uncertainly. Eddie wiggled her fingers in his prosthetic hand impatiently. "Is it just me? I can drag Steve over here, if you like. He's a surprisingly good follow."

Barnes snorted, and some of the darkness left his eyes. His artificial hand gripped hers a little more tightly, and he pressed his right hand more firmly against her back, starting up again and moving much more easily this time.

"He really was, wasn't he?" His voice was tinged with humor now, and Eddie felt prideful satisfaction at being the cause.

She smiled, encouraged. "A little tall for me, though. I really had to stretch to turn him, but I don't figure you'd have that problem."

Barnes turned her out at the words, and when Eddie came back around to look at him, he was smirking a little. "You think we could get him in one of those?" His eyes flicked downwards, and Eddie guessed he was referring to the wiggle skirt she was wearing.

Eddie almost laughed at the mental image. "I'm not sure you could find one that fits him right." She paused, then wondered aloud, "You think they kept any of those old USO girl uniforms?"

"That's a little more leg than I think I want to see." Barnes didn't smile, but his eyes were brighter than before. "Can you do the Charleston?"

Could she do the Charleston? Honestly. "I can do everything."

Barnes quirked one eyebrow, and seemed to take it as a challenge. He brought her into the Charleston, and then tested her on several variations, ending with a tricky maneuver where they moved side to side across the floor, Barnes facing Eddie's back, before returning to the basic position.

"Not bad," Barnes said, seeming to mean it. "You weren't frozen in ice for 70 years too, were you?"

Eddie shook her head and countered, "You're doing pretty well yourself for a guy in his 90s."

The song was close to ending. Barnes whipped them both around quickly and spun her out again, rapidly, several times in a row. It got to the point where Eddie was almost too dizzy to keep her feet. If Barnes had stopped or let go then, she would have crashed to the floor. But he didn't, instead doing a quick series of turns and then, as the music crescendoed at the end, dipped her.

This seemed to surprise Bucky almost as much as it surprised Eddie, judging by the way his eyes widened and his muscles tensed as the song died out for a beat of silence before the opening notes of a new tune picked up. He straightened them both up and cast an embarrassed look toward the wall, but it wasn't necessary. It seemed Steve and Romanov had slipped out while they were dancing, shutting the door behind them.

"Sneaky," he muttered. Eddie huffed a laugh and he looked back at her, contemplative.

Eddie knew that look intimately. She saw it in the mirror all the time: the face of someone who was about to overthink everything. To avoid it, Eddie held up her hand again and waggled her eyebrows in an invitation for another dance.

Barnes hesitated for so long that Eddie began to wonder if she'd just stand there with her hand outstretched for the duration of the song. But eventually Barnes nodded, taking her hand and leading them around the room at a more sedate pace for the slower song FRIDAY was now playing.

"So, Eddie," Barnes began, turning her. "How did you get roped into this scheme?"

Eddie shrugged easily. "I was a SHIELD analyst, before. I imagine the list of former SHIELD employees Romanov trusts is quite small, and I'm betting I'm the only person on it who can swing dance."

"Fair enough." Barnes fell silent, and Eddie watched with exasperation as the 'overthinking it' face returned.

"That's kind of how I know Romanov, actually," she continued, to distract him. And herself, because if  _he_  started overthinking it, then  _she'd_  start overthinking it, and remember that she was dancing with a  _very deadly assassin._  She jabbered on to drown out those thoughts. "I, uh, barely passed the minimum combat training. It's not that I'm  _bad_ at most of it, but I've been dancing since I was a kid. It's really ingrained in me to keep my feet, so I had a lot of trouble falling and rolling. Romanov and some of the other trainers and agents took to knocking me over and throwing me by surprise so I'd learn to roll." Eddie grimaced at the memory. She hadn't been injured too often or too severely, but the unexpected attacks had made her jumpy for months.

Barnes waited expectantly for her to continue, and eventually asked, "Did you?"

"Not really." Eddie admitted. "Sometimes I managed it, but a lot of the time Romanov would shove me and I'd just sort of… dance myself back on my feet."

"Now, that I'd like to see."

Eddie saw a ghost of mischief in the man's eyes and swatted his right arm lightly. "Consensual, dance-related tossing only," she scolded.

"Or what?"

'Or I'll jab you with sedative-laced hairpins' would probably not go over well, so she settled for, "I'll tell Steve on you."

Barnes's face fell and he went quiet, gaze turning inward. Eddie could have kicked herself. She tried to recover the joking, jovial mood by offering more stories about her time at SHIELD or asking questions, but it was no good. He seemed not to be listening to her half the time, and if he did register a question he'd answer with one word.

It was an exhausting hour, emotionally more than physically. Bucky was a good dancer, and while his movements weren't hesitant like they were when they first started, they became robotic, like he was operating completely on autopilot, his mind somewhere else.

Eddie was relieved when FRIDAY eventually stopped the music, announcing that her car would be arriving soon. Barnes dropped Eddie's hands abruptly, looking vaguely surprised and glancing out the window, as if he had failed to register the passing of time.

"Thanks for the dance," Eddie said softly, hoping not to startle him while he looked so thoroughly off-balance. His eyes snapped back to her, but he seemed incapable of words, simply nodding.

Eddie stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure whether to say goodbye and leave him there alone. He looked lost, and Eddie suspected if she backed away and left the room without a word, he'd simply stand there, lost in thought, for another hour.

Luckily, the door opened. Steve entered, and Romanov stood in the doorway, beckoning her out. Eddie left the room gratefully, happy to leave Barnes and his blank, silent stare to Steve.

"How did it go?" Romanov asked casually as she guided Eddie through the hallways of the compound.

Eddie quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know. How  _did_  it go?"

Because she didn't believe for a second that Romanov and Steve hadn't been watching, even if they'd left the room. And they both knew better than her what was normal or good for Barnes. She'd thought they were doing well at the start, but then the man had gone all robotic and distant. Eddie wasn't sure what to think, wasn't sure if their little dance session had helped or hurt.

Romanov looked thoughtful and seemed to truly consider her answer. "You're good for him."

Eddie didn't care for that phrasing  _at all_. "You do mean dancing, right?  _Dancing_ is good for him?"

"Of course," Romanov said lightly. Eddie eyed her suspiciously, but didn't push further. "He doesn't joke much. Doesn't like to be touched, or use the prosthetic unless it's completely necessary."

Eddie chewed on that as they made their way down to the gate, where the sleek black car was already waiting. "Hang on—did Captain America  _hear_  us joking about him wearing the USO girl outfit?"

Romanov's eyes glittered. "You should've seen him blush."


	3. Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

The following weekend, Eddie glanced at the caller ID as her phone buzzed, wondering why on Earth Lena would be calling her instead of texting. "What's up?"

"You're riding with us to the dance tonight, right?" Ah, yes. It was far easier for Lena to nag her on a call than via text.

"No, thanks. I'm not going out tonight." Or, more accurately, Eddie would still be riding the train back down to DC when Lena left for the dance. But she wasn't about to tell her friend she was currently en route to the Avengers compound.

"Are you okay?" Lena asked immediately, sounding concerned. "You need me to bring you some chicken soup? Or medicine?"

"I'm not  _sick_ ," Eddie denied, though she was touched that Lena would've brought her soup if she was. "I've just got other plans."

There was a long, disbelieving pause. " _Oh my God._ Do you have a  _date_?" Lena spoke the accusation with a mix of stunned betrayal and delight.

Eddie sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "No, Lena."

"Bring him dancing!" Lena demanded, ignoring Eddie's denial completely.

"Goodbye, Lena," Eddie said briskly.

"Wait wait wait—"

Eddie hung up, shaking her head and reclining in the backseat of the car that had once again met her at the station. She'd have to come up with an explanation for her absences on Saturday nights in the future. Something sustainable long-term—Lena would get wise if she was 'sick' too often, and would demand to meet her boyfriend if she said she was on dates. Probably best to tell her, vaguely, that it was a work project that required her to travel.

Lena didn't really know what Eddie did, except that it involved finance, she was employed by the government, and Eddie refused to talk about it. She probably thought Eddie worked for the CIA, or something. Which was wrong, but not too far off.

Romanov was already standing outside the gate again when Eddie arrived. Before she could offer a greeting, Romanov said shortly, "Barnes wanted to cancel."

Eddie couldn't say she was surprised, given how things had ended last time. "I take it you didn't let him."

"Of course not." Romanov paused, glancing at her. "You don't want to know why?"

Eddie blinked, puzzled. "He gave a specific reason?"

"Yes. He doesn't believe me when I tell him you know what he's done." Romanov gave her a patient, expectant look. Eddie halted in front of the door to the compound.

"Wait." Eddie tilted her head, trying to work through Barnes's logic. "Does he  _want_  me to know? Or to not know?"

"He doesn't want to 'endanger some girl who doesn't have a clue who the hell she's dancing with,'" Romanov said, clearly quoting him verbatim and also clearly unimpressed with the reasoning.

Eddie thought it was a reasonable complaint, if ill-informed. "And you did  _tell_  him I know exactly who I'm dancing with?"

Romanov nodded. "He doesn't seem to believe us." She looked expectant.

"Are you—" Eddie stopped and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Are you going to make me go in there and reassure him that I'm... okay with him putting his assassin hands on me?"

"I doubt that'd be the best way to phrase it, but yes." Romanov was clearly enjoying this on some level. Eddie sighed, resigned. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? She should have expected this, really.

"You realize typical dancing conversation is 'Where are you from?' and 'Where'd you go to school?' Not, 'By the way, I'm already familiar with everyone you killed when you were brainwashed by Nazi scientists, and I'm cool with it'?"

"He's not exactly your typical dance partner." Romanov held the door open and raised an eyebrow.

Eddie sighed and trudged through the door, muttering insults about spies and Avengers that Romanov gracefully ignored.

Barnes was leaning on the wall of the dance room when Eddie walked in, an eerily similar position to the one Steve had been in when she'd arrived last week, except moodier. Eddie dropped her purse on the floor near the wall and rolled her shoulders, straightening to her full height as she turned. She strode over with a confidence she didn't really feel, and stood toe to toe with him, waiting.

He stared at her for a moment, eyes wide, then glanced away, jaw tight. "You shouldn't have come back."

Eddie folded her arms, unimpressed. "I didn't come all the way up from DC to not dance."

Barnes's shoulders hunched, and he glared at her. Eddie was not pleased to have that look directed at her, but willed herself to plant her feet and not back up. She resisted the urge to look at his mechanical hand, to see if it was clenched into a fist, but only just.

"You don't know what you're doing. Leave."

"I was SHIELD, Barnes. I know enough." Barnes shook his head stubbornly, not meeting her eyes anymore. "I'm not as familiar with your dossier as Rogers and Romanov, but I know the highlights. Numbers. Names." Barnes's eyes snapped back to her, wide and surprised. Eddie probably shouldn't have felt as satisfied as she did at the expression. "If it really matters that much to you, I bet Romanov would let me read your file cover to cover. I imagine that might take a while, but I assure you I'd come right back here."

And she meant that. She might teeter back on wobbly knees, but she'd manage it.

Barnes swallowed loudly. The hostility he'd been radiating since before she'd entered had disappeared, leaving him pale and uncertain. "Why?"

This question Eddie was prepared to answer, because she'd been asking herself the same thing every day since she agreed to this ridiculous proposition.

"There really isn't much I wouldn't do for Romanov or another Avenger if they asked me nicely," Eddie admitted. And it did feel like an admission, because she really wasn't sure where she'd draw the line with that, and that scared her on a pretty deep level. "This isn't too bad, really. I get to dance, and unlike other things Romanov might've asked of me, I doubt anyone's going to try to shoot me over it."

"You're not afraid?" Barnes asked, skeptical. As well he should be, because she was. With his trained eye he could probably tell, too, so Eddie didn't even bother trying. She dodged the question instead.

"Despite the doubts you clearly have about yourself, I seriously doubt Rogers and Romanov would have set this up if they thought you would hurt me."

Barnes chewed on that for a long moment before musing aloud, quietly, "Awful lot of trust."

Eddie shrugged. "Well, Romanov also promised that you wouldn't try to feel me up while we dance, so that's a bonus, too."

"What?" Barnes looked baffled, and the confusion dissipated the air of gloom he'd been exuding.

Eddie shook her head, stepping back and offering her right hand expectantly. If he wanted answers, he'd have to talk while dancing. He looked at her hand distastefully for a long moment, but eventually sighed and took it. FRIDAY began playing music without prompting.

"Well?" Barnes asked expectantly once he'd started the dance.

"I go dancing all the time. Most guys are perfect gentlemen, but some aren't." At Barnes's curious look, she continued, "They'll press real close—" Eddie invaded Barnes's personal space for half a second to demonstrate how close she meant, earning raised eyebrows before she pulled away, "because they know most women are too polite to just walk away once they've started dancing."

Barne's lips twitched in an almost-smile, looking over Eddie's shoulder. "Steve used to punch guys like that."

Eddie laughed abruptly at the mental image of Captain America socking the septegenarian who'd pressed too close a few weeks ago, and the sound seemed to startle Barnes a bit. She smiled apologetically at him. "Maybe I'll take him with me in the future. Then he won't be completely useless on the dance floor."

Barnes shook his head at the joke. He paused for a long moment before asking, hesitantly, like he wasn't sure if he was being rude, "You don't have a guy to do the punching for you?"

"Nah," Eddie said carelessly, unbothered. "I'm an independent woman. If I really wanted anyone punched, I'd do it myself."

"If you say so." From the expression on Barnes's face and the glance he shot at her skinny arms, he doubted it. Eddie let him doubt. Despite her small size and frail appearance, she could pack a good punch. Not enough to lay out a super soldier, perhaps, but good enough to knock a regular man off his feet.

Eddie instead amused herself by recounting some of the ways men had tried to hit on her or Lena while dancing. She detailed the men who were very interested to ask what school she went to, then lost all interest when she replied that she was several years out of college, and the many men who'd told Lena, suggestively, that they'd never been with a black woman before.

"Oh!" Eddie shook her head in amusement as she recalled one of the most bizarre occurrences. "One time, this guy was bragging about how he was a landlord. He kept trying to persuade me to move into his building, and promised discounted rent—very sketchy."

Barnes looked unsure whether to be amused or horrified. "And you keep going back?"

"Of course," Eddie said immediately. "It's obnoxious sometimes, but why should I stop doing something I enjoy just because some men are asshats?" Eddie realized too late that 'asshat' was probably not a phrase Barnes would be familiar with. Luckily the term was fairly self-explanatory in context, and he didn't react to it with anything more than a slight widening of the eyes and an amused huff of breath.

"If you say so," he said again, shaking his head.

It was a much more enjoyable hour than the last time. Barnes seemed fully present the whole time, and entirely unrobotic. He didn't talk much, but Eddie didn't really expect him to. She doubted the stories he had to tell were quite as appropriate for social dancing. When the songs were too fast to talk, they were silent, and when the songs were slow enough for silence to stretch on, Eddie would toss out anecdotes about Lena, or her family, or her time at SHIELD.

Barnes didn't laugh, or joke any further, but there was a light in his eyes that was almost like laughter when she talked, which she counted as a victory.

All in all, she thought it went very well. Which was why she was surprised when the last song came to an end and Barnes said quietly, "This should stop."

Eddie blinked. Barnes was staring at his feet, and though FRIDAY had stopped playing music and Eddie had dropped her left arm from his shoulder, Barnes had yet to let go of her right hand.

"I don't get the feeling that's what you actually want," Eddie said, wiggling her hand in his prosthetic one to emphasize her point. Barnes looked taken aback and dropped her hand quickly. "So what's the real problem?"

Barnes fisted his hands at his sides and fixed his gaze over Eddie's shoulder, glaring out the window. It took him a minute, but eventually he forced out, "This isn't who I am anymore."

Eddie thought she could see where this was going, but still prompted, "I don't understand."

Barnes's eyes flicked toward her doubtfully before darting away again. "Steve." His jaw worked silently for a bit before he continued. "He wants me to be the Bucky he remembers, but that's… I'm not that man anymore."

"Hmm." Eddie considered it only for a second. "Nope."

"No—" Barnes started to repeat it, surprised, but cut short. "That's all this is. I used to go dancing before the war, so he wants me to dance."

Eddie shook her head. She could have sworn the super soldier serum was supposed to enhance intelligence, too. Maybe the HYDRA knockoff was deficient in that aspect.

"What he  _wants_ , you idiot, is for you to be  _happy_ ," Eddie explained impatiently, not particularly caring anymore that she'd just called a deadly assassin an idiot to his face. Fortunately for her, Barnes didn't seem to care either. "He doesn't want you to dance because it's something you  _used to do_. He wants you to do it because he remembers it made you  _happy_. You could pick up finger painting, or stamp collecting, or rhythmic gymnastics, and so long as it made you happy Steve would support you. Surely you realize that?"

Barnes looked wrong-footed. He fell into a look of deep concentration, like he was attempting to do complex long division in his head. Finally he blinked, face clearing, with a soft, "Oh."

Eddie snorted. " _Oh_ ," she repeated, stalking over to the side of the room to pick up her purse. She opened the door to the dance room, finding Romanov and Rogers already waiting outside.

"How'd it go?" Romanov asked.

Eddie was fairly certain she already had a very good idea, so in lieu of a real answer Eddie informed her seriously, "All men are idiots."

"Hey, now," Rogers protested half-heartedly, looking unsure whether he had a right to be offended, but Romanov nodded seriously at the universal truth.

"That they are. Come on, I'll walk you out."

* * *

Barnes was sat on the floor against the wall when Eddie returned the next week, reading. Eddie tilted her head as she entered to read the title.

" _To Kill A Mockingbird_?" Not what she would have expected, but she supposed it was a classic that came out after... well, after.

Barnes marked his place with a bookmark and set the book aside, standing with a sort of fluid grace that reminded Eddie, abruptly, that this man was deadly. It was easy to forget when they were dancing. Eddie wasn't sure yet whether that was a good thing or not.

"Just trying to catch up on what I've missed."

Eddie couldn't imagine how she'd feel if she woke up several decades in the future to a world so changed. That sort of culture shock was enough to drive a lesser person crazy, she thought, even  _without_  being brainwashed and used as a killing machine. It was a heavy prospect. Eddie dealt with it the way she dealt with other heavy, emotional topics: diversion.

"Oh yeah? Does that mean I can play some music written after 1945?"

Barnes shrugged easily, strolling to the center of the room and waiting for her to join him. "Be my guest."

Eddie couldn't contain a smile. Music from the 40s was okay, but Eddie preferred music from the 50s and the 90s swing revival, which was generally faster. And Eddie very much liked to go fast.

"FRIDAY, do you have access to my music?" Eddie asked aloud, casting her eyes to the ceiling even though she knew the AI didn't have a physical presence to look at. It made her feel better to address the speakers than to acknowledge that the program was everywhere. "My playlists should be public."

"Yes, Ms. Edwards."

"Excellent. Put my swing playlist on shuffle, would you? And start with Johnny B. Goode."

Eddie joined Barnes in the center of the room, putting her hand in his as FRIDAY obeyed. Barnes's eyebrows shot up at the speed of the guitar riff that began the song, and it took him a moment to find the beat of the music and adjust.

"What  _is_  this?"

"This, my friend, is Chuck Berry." Eddie paused. "Have you seen 'Back to the Future' yet?" Barnes shook his head. "You'll have to add it to your list. Along with Chuck Berry."

"If you say so." Barnes said this in the same amused, indulgent tone in which Eddie's father said 'yes, dear' to her mother. Eddie narrowed her eyes at him.

"I do say so," Eddie confirmed. "What else is on your list?"

"Besides everything that's happened since 1945?" Barnes asked, voice dry.

"You don't need to catch up on  _everything_. Just the important stuff," Eddie countered, though she got his point. "Tell me what you've caught up on already, then."

Barnes's eyes went distant, clearly running through a sort of mental list. "The history of the world since the end of the war. The big stuff, anyway. Other wars. The Civil Rights movement. The moon landing," He began. Eddie nodded, figuring that stuff was kind of a given. "Technology... Star Wars."

"All of them?"

Barnes blinked, a line forming between his brows. "There's just the three, right?"

Ah, to live in a world where that were true. Eddie nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. "Yep."

Barnes shot her an odd look at the smile on her face, but continued. "Steve and I are supposed to watch Indiana Jones next."

"Those are classics." Eddie nodded thoughtfully. "And bad things happen to Nazis in them, which I'm guessing is a plus for you two. What about music?"

Barnes had raised an eyebrow at the Nazi comment, but shrugged at her question. "I like the Beatles."

" _Everybody_  likes the Beatles, Barnes."

"Bucky." He had a stubbornness in his face, and now that she'd danced with him several Saturdays in a row, the name didn't feel quite as inappropriately familiar, so Eddie acquiesced.

" _Everybody_  likes the Beatles, Bucky," Eddie corrected. "What else have you listened to? Bowie? Madonna?" Bucky looked bemused, shaking his head mutely. "What about musicals?" Another shake.

Eddie started composing the list of things he'd need to see in her head as they danced, talking out loud, more  _at_ Barnes than to him. "The Sound of Music and Singin' In the Rain are probably some of the most famous. Lots of pop culture references to those. The Jungle Book, of course, because the music's so good—but the original, not the new one. The Blues Brothers, obviously. The Music Man…"

"You know I've got to sleep sometime, right?" Bucky looked a little alarmed at how rapidly his list was growing.

Eddie scoffed. "If you've got time for Indiana Jones, you've got time for the Blues Brothers."

"If you say so," Bucky said again. Eddie shook her head, but let it slide, lapsing into a comfortable silence as they danced.

"How'd you learn to do this, anyway?" Bucky asked later, as Ella Fitzgerald sang about paper moons and canvas skies in the background. "I thought nobody danced like this anymore."

"Well, not  _nobody_." Eddie corrected. "There's a pretty big subculture for it ever since the '90s. Most big cities in the U.S. have a swing club, or at least a venue that hosts dances pretty regularly. And lots of colleges have clubs."

"Is that where you learned? College?"

"I learned to lead in college, but I started taking lessons with my parents when I was about 10."

"You were pretty good." Bucky's eyes were bright, probably at the memory of tall, muscly Captain America being led and spun around by a woman nearly a foot shorter. "Do we need to take turns?"

"God, no," Eddie denied immediately, not willing to indulge the idea even as a joke. "I hate leading."

"Really?" Despite the proposition, Bucky had made no move to swap their positions as the next song started, for which Eddie was thankful. "Why?"

Eddie shrugged carelessly. "Same reason I don't like driving: I prefer to enjoy the ride, rather than be responsible for thinking about where I'm going." Eddie cast an annoyed look up at him. "Besides, you're far too tall for that to be practical."

"Probably for the best," Bucky agreed seriously. "You're giving an awful lot of orders already."

"I'm trying to  _educate_  you, you ungrateful sod."

"Sure. Of course."

When their time was up, Eddie tossed a faux-stern, "Don't forget to do your homework!" over her shoulder on her way out of the room, earning a raised eyebrow from Natasha, who was waiting as usual to escort her back out to the car.

When she returned the following Saturday, she shot Bucky a warm smile as she set down her purse. "How was Indiana Jones?"

"It was good." He paused, then added, "You were right about the Nazis."

"You'll come to learn I'm right about nearly everything," Eddie joked.

Bucky shook his head, seemingly trying to repress the small, crooked smile on his face while waiting for Eddie to meet him in the middle of the room. Before Eddie could open her mouth to ask for music, he beat her to it. "FRIDAY, play it."

Eddie's puzzlement lasted all of half a second, turning into a grin of delight as the opening notes of 'Shake a Tailfeather' started. "You watched The Blues Brothers!"

"Turns out I had the time."


End file.
